


shift gear

by inkay



Category: Cardfight!! Vanguard
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/F, M/M, Slow Burn, also so many starbucks lol cant live in nyc without sbux, for context: events of cfv have not happened, however fic setting is still og cfv post-s4 with standard+premium established, like painfully slow. im fucking sorry, more caffeine and sugar than is healthy, plot? perhaps? we just dont know, technically this is still a bakery au but less bakery more au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-20
Updated: 2018-09-20
Packaged: 2019-07-14 16:05:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 8,548
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16043849
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inkay/pseuds/inkay
Summary: Ren travels to New York City with his longtime crush for a retro-style Vanguard exhibition tournament called the Cardfight Subway. This will definitely end well.





	1. I. LEON

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [planes, my heart, and other things that occasionally go 600mph without warning](https://archiveofourown.org/works/3874588) by [orphan_account](https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account). 



> disclaimer: no mta schedules were hurt in the making of this fic because theyre all completely fucked anyway
> 
> some notes:  
> \- as a local new yorker and cfv tourney frequenter, ive wanted to write a story where i can accurately explore the underground culture of card games without having to include the unpleasant undertones many cardfighters run into irl. the excitement of scouting out and haggling prices for new cards or boxes, the fun of in-jokes, and the eager anticipation of taking vacation time for special tournaments or meeting up with longtime friends who share the same dedicated love for the game are all factors that play a huge part in why most of us continue to play vanguard irl despite everything, and i genuinely hope that this fic can convey even a fraction of my love for this game and the fun ive had writing it.  
> \- i was a younger writer under a different pseudonym when i first began this work, so anyone who's come across this concept before in the ship tag may want to read this again for lots of changes. pls i can only hope im a better writer now cos jfc my drafts make me wanna die  
> \- i do intend to finish this particular fic thanks to popular demand from the people i've asked to skim the draft and also the apparent resurgence of my rarepair(?! holy shit guys its HAPPENING)  
> \- yes theres a prequel already in the works. i would die for asamisa so im writing the slow burn i crave in this universe
> 
> with that said, please enjoy my labor of love. (ovo)9
> 
> p.s. im dedicating this fic to terry, ember and soleil, without whose combined support this would not have been possible. i love you guys!!!!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A turbulent takeoff.

"Are you sure this is our gate?"

Hitsue Airport is huge, noisy and absolutely packed with interesting characters, just the sort of atmosphere that Ren seems to generally enjoy. However, the taller of the duo is somehow managing to look completely out of place in the waiting area chair, and it's not just the fact that he's curled up in it like a cat.

"Ren, you've asked me that three times already." Leon stares into their coffee and decides the oversaturated dregs of sugar in their Starbucks cup aren’t worth finishing. They'd have gotten tea, but Ren ordered them a drink with eighteen syllables and about as many flavors and they hadn’t had the heart to refuse him. "Didn’t you bring anything to do?"

Ren scoffs. "Am I that boring to hang out with?"

"No," answers Leon truthfully, because Suzugamori Ren is literally as far from boring as one can get. "However, asking me about the plane gate is the equivalent of 'Are we there yet?' and I will completely ignore you for all fourteen hours it takes to get to New York if you question me one more time."

"Tch." Ren turns up his nose and tugs a translucent Game Boy out of his carry-on, propping his chin on his knees as he flicks the power switch. The opening theme of Pokemon Ruby floats into the space between them; Leon thinks they should probably be concerned that they possess enough latent knowledge about video games to recognize the exact game Ren is playing before making a concerted effort to ignore that fact. That way lies only danger.

Minutes pass, punctuated only by dissonant airport noise and the sounds of Ren's game; Leon grimaces at the sensation of an impending headache and reaches into their pocket for their phone, scrolling until they locate their favorite playlist.

(Rather, they attempt to. In place of their carefully-assembled collection of études is an Apple Music playlist that has been creatively labeled "8 BIT CHOPIN LOL".)

_"Ren."_

"Hm?" Ren hums, not looking up from his game.

"Did you touch my phone again?"

"I have absolutely no idea what you’re talking about," responds Ren cheerfully before jabbing a few buttons on his game and promptly wrinkling his nose at the screen. “Awh, why do my enemies only land critical hits when I’m dying, this isn’t _fair…”_

Narrowing their eyes, Leon settles into the chair opposite their friend with a pristine pair of white earbuds and resigns themself to their fate.

 

* * *

 

Leon barely manages their way through ten tunes of the monstrosity of a soundtrack Ren has forcibly provided them with before curiosity gets the best of them.

(It's strange. They would never have thought themself a curious or talkative person, yet Ren has managed to wrangle his way past Leon’s carefully-maintained interactions with others. This is both impressive and slightly terrifying, and Leon is trying very hard not to think about it too much.)

"What?"

As inquiries go, it could be worse. Leon supposes they should be grateful for the ability to still communicate in words after the cacophony of chiptunes they've been assailed with for the better part of half an hour.

"What do you mean, _what?"_ Ren responds petulantly, glaring at the side of the chair like it's done him some grievous wrong.

Leon sighs and tugs out the other earbud, switching their phone off to conserve battery because Ren likely didn't charge it after completely scrambling their playlists. "You wouldn't shut up about this tournament for an entire month, and you pick _now_ to go quiet?"

Ren opens his mouth to say something, but Leon cuts him off, suddenly fueled by passive irritation about the fact that Ren sacrificed an entire playlist's worth of classical music to shitty chiptunes.

(Among other things.)

(But mostly the chiptunes.)

"Don't even try it. In order for you to stop, I was forced to hold your deck above the park’s bird bath and nearly ended up making good on my threat. You woke me up four hours early this morning for the security check, and you ordered me a ten-flavored coffee that I cared neither to imbibe nor to pay for. And after all of the above, you pick _right now_ to look like you'd rather be anywhere else on the planet. Something is decidedly wrong."

Ren stares at them. "Someone's talkative."

"And _someone’s_ not," counters Leon.

"Big deal," mutters Ren, pulling a face at them before mumbling something inaudible.

"What did you say?"

"Nothing." Ren shakes his head, and by extension his ponytail; Leon swears they see crimson hair slap him directly across the face and wonders for the umpteenth time why he doesn't simply adopt a shorter cut.

Neither party extends the conversation, and the two end up lapsing into silence. Ren gets increasingly more fidgety as the minutes tick by, and Leon realizes with some mortification that they are unconsciously mirroring his nervous movements.

"Stop that."

"Stop what?"

 _"That."_ Leon gestures to the entirety of their travel partner, deliberately making sure Ren can fully comprehend their hand motion; an offended expression is Ren’s only response before the intercom crackles above their heads.

"International flight 3502 HTA to JFK now accepting priority passengers and families with small children..."

Leon briefly considers shoving Ren underneath the label of "small children" in order to board early but decides against it in the end; although the flight is fully booked, they possess no desire to argue with someone over a double row of chairs. Ren remains unnaturally quiet, lips pressed together in a thin line as the two are all but carried into the boarding line by the influx of passengers, and presents his slightly wrinkled boarding pass without so much as a fuss. They’re ferried by staff through the metal temp gate that connects the airport to the plane, and Leon's pinpointed a double seat two rows in before they realize their travel partner is no longer next to them.

"Oi." Leon glances backwards. "We don't have all day. Planes do take off without people."

"I _know_ that," Ren huffs, hoisting his backpack a bit further onto his shoulder and looking even more uncomfortable than he did while they were seated at the gate.

"Then what's the issue?"

"There isno issue," insists Ren, but his voice wavers somewhere in the middle of his sentence.

Leon simply raises an eyebrow and waits, tucking a flyaway piece of blond hair behind their left ear.

"Okay, okay! Don't stare at me like that." Ren glares at the floor. "Maybe there is a problem. Kind of a large one."

"Well?" Leon taps a foot impatiently. The gate hallway is mostly devoid of people by now, with the exception of the beleaguered flight attendant greeting stragglers behind them, and no one appears to be paying any attention.

Ren mutters something too low for even Leon to hear, and the latter shakes their head in frustration.

"Ren, I–"

"Aviophobia," blurts Ren, cutting them off abruptly. "I’m afraid of planes."

"You...you couldn't have mentioned this earlier?" Leon stares at him, flabbergasted.

"Well, I was…" begins Ren, but his excuse is interrupted by the final boarding call. Sighing internally, Leon links his fingers with Ren’s and hauls both him and his suitcase up the ramp without another word.

 

* * *

 

By some miracle, the pair of seats Leon had spotted earlier is still free, so they haul a slightly uncooperative Ren into the aisle seat before climbing unceremoniously over him to sit at the window.

Ren stares at Leon like they've grown a second head. "You could have just sat down first, you know."

" _Or_ you could have seated yourself on your own power, rather than me having to do it for you," replies Leon, hoping their retort is waspish enough to belay their concern.

Ren sticks out his tongue at them. Worryingly enough, no further retorts surface.

Twin turbofan engines hum rhythmically to life around them as the plane begins to taxi. A placid robotic voice voice chirps out the flight’s emergency procedures in much-unneeded detail; Leon spends most of the next five minutes giving the accompanying screens a vicious look in the hope that it will somehow deter them from providing photo evidence of every possible worst-case scenario. Beside them, Ren grows steadily paler, and Leon tries to ignore the small feeling of dread in the pit of their stomach.

The plane taxies onto the runway, and the world falls out from beneath them both.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi everyone id like to welcome you to my yeet and greet *yeets renleon across the room* the


	2. II. REN

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> NYC, finally.

Takeoff is unpleasant, to say the least.

Ren thinks he could maybe tolerate it more if he wasn't being shoved down in his seat and his ears didn't feel like they'd been stuffed with plaster. Suddenly he's dizzy and he can't breathe, and then he can kind of manage but it feels gross and awful to inhale. Leon's voice is faint in his ear, asking if he wants ginger ale, and when he doesn't answer them at first they ask if he’s alive.

"I'm fine," mumbles Ren. His stomach is rising and falling with the motions of the plane, and he is vaguely thankful that the last time he ate anything of substance was over twelve hours ago.

The flight attendant gives him a skeptical look. Leon requests ginger ale and pretzels for the both of them, saving their sigh for when she walks off.

"You look dreadful."

"You look annoyed."

"You're holding my hand."

Too nauseous to be embarrassed, Ren disengages his death grip on Leon's fingers and slumps over in their chair. _Thirteen more hours._

"Twelve hours and fifty-four minutes, actually," Leon informs him.

"Okay, I lied," Ren announces, lifting his head from the seatback tray. "Everything is horrible and I want to get off this thing."

Leon snorts in a rather undignified manner before reaching into their backpack and withdrawing a small stack of papers. "Did you fill out the pre-registration form yet?"

"We had to do that?" Ren leans over to watch them write.

"I was expecting that." The corner of Leon's mouth quirks up just a little. It's kind of cute. "I brought an extra one."

Ren rummages in his carry-on bag for a bit and emerges with a gel pen that’s most definitely not his. Wincing, he uncaps it and starts scribbling across the page in electric-blue ink.

"Ooh, Rekka is going to be so pissed..."

"Who's Rekka?" Leon queries, signing their name at the bottom of the paper with a flourish.

"She's my fight partner at the card shop in Hitsue sometimes," answers Ren, chewing on the pen cap as he considers the two tiny boxes under _gender._ "Her and her sisters are going to this tournament too, I think."

" _She_ and her sisters," Leon corrects him, tugging the pen away from his mouth. "Don't do that. It's unhygienic."

"Hmmmph." Ren throws them his best glare and returns to the piece of paper. He draws a small box next to the other two and carefully prints _My gender is Shadow Paladin_ in the empty space beside it before scrawling his name at the bottom of the page. "Okay, finished. Are we there yet?"

Leon glances over at Ren's registration form and promptly places their head in their hands.

 

* * *

 

The flight gets exponentially better when the snacks arrive. The can of ginger ale puts Ren's stomach to rest, and his appetite returns enough for him to demolish both his and Leon's dinner. Needless to say, Leon is not amused.

"They're sparing with food on most flights, even intercontinental ones."

"It's okay, I have snacks!" Ren grins, gleefully upending his backpack. Candy flies everywhere.

"That was completely unnecessary." Leon folds their arms, casting a slightly disgusted look at the large pile of lollipops and jawbreakers. "Honestly, the amount of sugar you manage to transport everywhere is appalling."

Ren glares at them. “Why did I agree to join tag matches with you, again?”

"You’ve dealt with me for almost two years," responds Leon drily. Their accent is faint and lilting, lending their words a musical quality, but Ren would rather live on a plane for the rest of his life than admit he enjoys hearing the other's voice. "Two more weeks won’t kill you.”

"Don't remind me," grumbles Ren, dramatically flinging an arm across his face. "You're such a picky roommate."

"Yes, well." Leon flicks their hand across the screen in front of them. "Some of us don't make it a habit to inhabit a literal _tent_ underneath their bed–"

The plane dips sharply, interrupting their sentence. Ren grits his teeth and tries not to think about the fact that he is still encased within a massive steel construct being held up by two engines and sheer force of will.

"We appear to be encountering turbulence," announces the pilot, rather unnecessarily.

"Thanks for the warning," Ren bites out in the direction of the intercom. His heart is racing nearly as fast as the plane, and he valiantly hopes his voice conveys irritation instead of terror.

"You're holding my hand again," Leon points out. Surprisingly, they don't sound too concerned.

"Okay. Are there any good movies?"

Leon flicks their free wrist, transferring the list from their screen to Ren's in one fluid motion. "Pick one. You're not allowed to select based on whether they have dragons in them."

Ren pouts but opts for silence as he scrolls, mostly because he really doesn't trust his mouth to relay anything that isn't panicky noises or the offhand thought that Leon's hand is nice to hold. Eventually he settles for a rewatch of How To Train Your Dragon.

"You _own_ that movie," Leon tells him, looking exasperated. "And I could have sworn I said something about dragons."

"I didn't hear you."

"Of course not,” Leon replies tiredly as they press play.

 

* * *

 

Ren falls asleep somewhere over the Pacific Ocean, waking only because the sun is in his face. Literally.

The plane is flying above the clouds, making it impossible to tell what timezone they’re currently in, and the person who is usually privy to these things is napping peacefully next to him. Quietly, Ren eases past Leon's resting form to peer out of the window, because heights might be a weakness but curiosity is a bigger one and none of the flight attendants know his 3DS has a camera.

"What are you doing?" Leon asks from–well, beneath him, technically.

Ren glances down. He's stepping on Leon's foot.

"Good morning?"

"No." Leon lifts their feet into the chair, allowing Ren the barest window of passage as they curl back up. "I am returning to sleep."

"But the sun is out." Ren gestures to the clouds outside.

"We're on top of clouds." Leon scowls at him. Their hair is not quite messy enough to be considered bedhead, but it's slowly approaching that point. "Of course the sun is out."

"Oh." Ren deflates slightly. "I'm not tired anymore, though."

"Wait until time zones hit you," mumbles Leon into their sleeve. "Although who knows, you may adopt a more regular sleeping schedule if you're exhausted."

"That's not nice," Ren chides them.

Leon glares at him and turns their back, curling up in their chair like a small and annoyed cat.

Ren spends the remainder of the flight time alternating between sleeping, playing Pokemon and mentally preparing himself for the sharp crackle of the intercom announcing the plane's descent. Leon edges their way back into the waking world soon afterwards with a magnificent yawn, becoming instantly alert upon realizing the aircraft is circling.

The plane tilts almost vertically to the ground and…nothing. Descent is as light as an errant card falling to the ground, leaving only a slight stuffiness in everyone's ears as its parting gift.

"Seriously?" Ren is distinctly not impressed. "Takeoff was terrible, and now this?"

"Stop whining," mumbles Leon sleepily. "Just be glad you didn't die or anything."

"I think that’s what _you’re_ glad for." Ren grins at them. "You looked worried the whole time," he adds smugly, and suddenly Leon is a lot more alert and a _lot_ more embarrassed.

"For the love of–Ren, _get off the plane."_

 

* * *

 

With the airport now out of the picture, Ren is immediately a lot more energetic.

"Leo-n! You can’t sleep now, there are things to see! Places to go! We’re not even on our home continent anymore!"

"Please stop talking," implores Leon, rubbing one eye with their sleeve. The two are seated in the back of a cab with their carry-on luggage; it’s Ren’s designated job to keep an eye out for their hotel, but Leon has adopted the role because their traveling partner is currently trying to puzzle out the location of Nintendo World.

"Hey, hey!" Ren tugs on Leon’s sleeve insistently. "I heard they sell stuffed toys that are your actual height–well, _my_ height, it doesn’t take much to reach yours–"

Leon bristles. "Say that to my face, you–"

"We’re here," announces the driver, looking rather peeved.

"When do we get to go places?" Ren asks, hauling both his and Leon’s suitcases out of the trunk.

Leon places two fingers to their temple. _"I_ am going to check us in at the hotel and go to pick up our train passes at Hudson Yards, wherever that is. You can get lost in the city on your own time."

The sentence _I’m going to sleep for five years_ is implicit, but Ren catches the message. Traveling has never been the kindest to Leon, and almost a day of it has probably exhausted them beyond belief. (There’s also the concerning matter of their weak immune system. Ren files this particular train of thought under W for Worrying Too Damn Much and decides to go pick up a warm cup of tea for them once they’re settled in.)

"...en. Ren!"

"Huh?" Ren blinks and realizes very belatedly that Leon’s been trying to grab his attention for nearly a minute. "Oh, sorry. What’s up?"

"‘What’s up’?" echoes Leon incredulously. "I asked you if you wanted to go parachuting from the top floor of this hotel and you nodded in agreement. Are you...physically well?”

Ren raises an eyebrow. "Leon, are you trying to ask if I’m okay?"

"Never mind." Flushing, the other cardfighter wrenches their suitcase from Ren’s grasp and stomps past him through the doors of the Courtyard Marriott.

Thoroughly confused, Ren stares at the still-spinning doorway before realizing Leon is probably going to check in without him.

“Aw, hell.”

 

* * *

 

Twenty-seven minutes, four wrong turns, two stolen coffees and one very aggravated bellboy later, Ren is parked safely in his and Leon’s shared hotel room. Immediately, he dives face-first into the single bed, relishing the feeling of being able to lay on a surface actually designed for sleep after literally flying across the world. The comforter is so soft and fluffy, and Leon probably won’t mind if he lays there for a few minutes, right?

He wakes some time later to find Leon staring down at him. They’ve changed into something that’s probably pajamas but also functions as a pretty cute casual outfit and holy heck, maybe Ren needs to go back to sleep and wake up when he stops blushing.

“Ren, get _off._ You’re wrinkling the sheets.”

Yep, never mind. Ren sits up and rubs his eyes, mouth tugging itself downwards of its own volition.

“I was _asleep,_ you meanie.”

“Get out of your day clothes at least,” replies Leon, rolling their eyes. “That can’t be comfortable.

A few synapses fire in unison and it occurs to Ren that he’s been wearing his binder for a solid twenty hours. Oops. He launches himself off the surface of the bed and kicks open his overstuffed suitcase, grabbing a shirt and what he hopes are pants before dashing into the bathroom.

“You’re welcome!” yells Leon through the door.

“No need to thank me,” responds Ren snarkily, flicking on the tap over Leon’s faint expression of outrage.

Ren amuses himself for a few minutes playing with the water settings before raking his fingers through his hair underneath the spray and scrubbing down as quickly as he can. Leon was totally right about casuals being more comfy; a tank top and a sports bra mostly cover for the absence of his binder as he jams his legs into his favorite pair of pajama pants and kicks open the bathroom door.

“Oi, Leon! You should cardfight me–Oh.”

Leon is curled up on the bed, their simple white outfit rendering them nearly indistinguishable from the bleached white sheets at first glance. They appear at ease for once, face completely clear of stress or annoyance, and that’s probably why Ren chooses to tuck them in rather than wake them up.

That also probably accounts for the quick brush of lips Ren delivers to Leon’s forehead before firmly entrenching himself in the covers on the other side of the bed, face burning almost as brightly as his hair.

(Probably.)

 

* * *

 

Ren doesn’t fall asleep for a long time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> courtyard by marriott on 35th is actually a really classy hotel! i stayed there last year, it was a good time +v+


	3. III. LEON

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Early morning shenanigans brought on by a distinct lack of caffeine in Leon's life.

Something is tickling Leon’s nose.

They sneeze gently and attempt to roll away from the offending texture, but they are stopped from completing the process by something warm. _Someone_ warm.

Leon reluctantly opens their eyes and comes face-to-face with Ren, who is completely dead to the world _and has an arm around their waist._ Their face flames up like a heater as they try very hard to ignore the traitorous part of their brain that insists they curl up closer and go straight back to sleep. (This is a mistake. Leon does not make a habit of letting other people within their personal space bubble, least of all a friend who they may or may not have Feelings™ for.)

At any rate, Ren makes the decision for them by shifting closer in his sleep. Briefly, Leon contemplates death before sighing very quietly and resigning themself to their embarrassing but comfortable fate.

(They seem to be resigning themself to a lot when it comes to Ren lately, but they absolutely refuse to think about the implications of getting used to him.)

When they wake up again, the other side of the bed is empty. The bathroom sink is running, and Leon can make out the sound of Ren singing some pop song over the rush of water. They roll their eyes and head over to the sink in the hallway, splashing some water on their face and using one of Ren’s combs to tame the worst of their bedhead before changing their shirt and deeming their attire fit for a quick breakfast run.

“Hey, Ren. What time is it?”

“Like nine-something?” Ren pokes his head out of the door. Half of his hair is pinned up with an elaborate assortment of sparkling silver hair clips. “Where are you going?”

“Food,” answers Leon, ignoring the way their stomach flips as Ren lights up excitedly. “I’m borrowing your card but I’ll pay you back today.”

“Okay!” hums Ren happily, waving at them with his brush. “Don’t forget the suite key. Last time I stayed at a hotel I had to pick the lock with a magnet.”

“You could have simply asked the front desk.” Leon snorts, slipping on a pair of sneakers and grabbing the aforementioned key off the side table. “I’ll be right back.”

 

* * *

 

There’s a Starbucks on the ground floor of the hotel. Leon glances from the frost-covered hotel doors to the warm, coffee-scented entryway and joins the line of people who obviously share the same sentiment about the chilly morning, sending a quick text to Ren as they do so because no way in hell are they expected to remember the unique combination of sugary flavors he absorbs gratuitously. Their tag partner’s response is punctuated with emojis, and Leon snorts despite themself as they relay the order across the counter.

“Ordering for someone?” questions the barista curiously as she places the two cups into a tray. “Misaki” is scribbled onto her name tag in tidy lavender letters the same shade as her hair.

Leon shrugs noncommittally as they pay for the drinks, unwilling to start a conversation without the boon of caffeine; Ren is just about the only person they actually bother to talk to in the mornings. Much to their surprise, Misaki seems to understand their aversion to conversation and drops the topic as she scribbles a customer’s name onto the next cup.

(She does wave as they leave, though. Awkwardly, Leon waves back before returning their full attention to the task in front of them: balancing two muffins, two grande drinks and a lemon square all the way back to the tenth floor.)

Ren fills Leon in on the details of the next two weeks while they eat. Apparently, in the short time Leon was gone, he’s managed to finagle a map, both their subway passes and an in-depth guide to the event they’re participating in off the desk staff.

“They’re giving us half a week to repair our sleep schedules, and then there’s a solid six days of Cardfighting that starts this weekend,” Ren informs them through a mouthful of cranberry muffin. “And after that is the awards ceremony and the repair of the messed-up subway schedules, and then everyone goes home. It’s pretty straightforward.”

“Doesn’t _sound_ straightforward,” gripes Leon, brushing crumbs from the bedsheets as they eye the thick event booklet. “What’s all that?”

“Vanguard for newbies.” Ren finishes his coffee and starts in on Leon’s drink when he thinks they’re not looking. “The subway tourney is super retro. It’s Legion-era until the finals, which are Premium free-for-all and best of one for tag tourney. They’re ranking teams based on singles performance, which is like, weird? Also the trains have special rules like sudden death or turns after a super short time limit. You don’t really know until it’s too late. Plus the train stops running if you lose, which is like _ultima_ embarrassing. People are going to get thrown off the subway in the middle of nowhere.”

“Ren, there’s a clear list of designated stops.” Leon decides not to wonder how their partner apparently memorized the entirety of the event rules in fifteen minutes, instead turning their attention back to the schedule. “Anyway, that leaves us with barely any time to practice until the real deal.”

Ren pulls a face at them. “Killjoy. We’re halfway across the world and all you wanna do is _practice?_ ”

“Well, what _else_ were you hoping for?” Leon asks, scowling.

Ren’s grin turns terrifying, and Leon’s heart drops into their stomach. “Well, Leon, I’m very glad you asked.”

 

* * *

 

What Ren has planned is shopping. Lots of it.

“No,” says Leon, planting their feet firmly on the floor and crossing their arms stubbornly.

“Okay.” Ren picks them up and carries them out of the room.

_“Suzugamori Ren put me down this instant,”_ squawks Leon, face flaming as they attempt to free themself from a surprisingly secure bridal carry. “I’m not even dressed properly, this is a _casual outfit–”_

“That’s the point,” scoffs Ren, shifting easily to accommodate their movements. “What, you think I’d take you shopping when you’re wearing a suit?”

“It is _not_ a suit, you imbecile, it’s called _formal wear-”_

In the end, Ren gets his way. The issue is decided with a cardfight, and his Legion-era Revengers deck trounces Leon’s Ripples solidly enough that the latter begrudgingly agrees to accompany him on his travels across New York City, as well as to not wear anything remotely formal.

“Don’t think this means you’ve won anything special.” Leon scowls at Ren as they emerge from the bathroom in a pair of cropped black pants and a hoodie with a jellyfish on it.

“See, you look fine!” Ren gives them an encouraging thumbs-up before considering the outfit they’re wearing more closely. “Huh. That’s my sweater.”

“It’s my sweater now,” Leon shoots back sulkily.

“Fair enough.” Ren shrugs and tosses them the suite key. Leon catches it easily, pocketing it with a scowl, and the two head downstairs in a companionable silence that is only interrupted when Ren attempts to push every button on the elevator. Including the alarm.

“Don’t you dare.”

Ren pouts as Leon practically snatches his hand out of the air. “It’s only a button!”

“Yes, well,” Leon retorts. “I’d rather not have to enter a tag tournament with someone I don’t know because my partner got himself arrested in another country on charges of misdemeanour.”

“Would you bail me out, though?” asks Ren. Thankfully Leon is spared from having to reply by the elevator doors opening on a familiar face.

“Ah, you’re…”

“Oh!” The barista from this morning–Misaki–is staring back at them, mouth drawn into a surprised O. “You’re the person who ordered the peach tea, aren’t you? Leon?”

Leon nods once, too taken aback to do anything else.

“Pfft, you look like you’ve seen a ghost. I just have a really good memory–it’s one of the consequences of running OTT.” Misaki smiles a bit ruefully before seeming to realize what she’s said. “Oh, but you probably don’t...”

“I play Aqua Force,” blurts Leon, a second before their brain catches up to them and asks what the hell they’re doing. “This is my partner, Suzugamori Ren. We’re participating in the Cardfight Subway exhibition tournament in a few days.”

Misaki’s eyes light up almost immediately. “Oh, sweet! I thought I wouldn’t run into any new Vanguard faces until the actual event. It’s good to meet you.”

“Likewise.” Leon goes to shake the hand that’s been proffered to them; it is then that they realize why Ren has been suspiciously quiet for this entire exchange.

They’re still holding hands with him.

They’re holding hands with Ren, they’re holding hands with _Ren,_ and this wouldn’t be news if not for the fact that Leon literally just introduced him as their partner . Granted, the word “tag” was probably implied somewhere in there but also Misaki’s eyeing their hands with a knowing sort of look (and is Ren _blushing,_ that’s actually really cute, oh–)

“Please excuse me. I have to go.” Leon calmly releases Ren’s hand in order to greet Misaki properly. Then they turn on their Converse-clad heels and run for their life.

 

* * *

 

“You should probably go after them,” says Misaki, smirking like the cat that got the canary. “I mean, that’s your _partner,_ right~?”

_(Asaka is gonna get the biggest kick out of this. She called the hell out of it.)_

“Oh, shut up.” Ren scowls at her, scuffing the toe of their sneaker against the lobby floor as he deftly avoids her gaze. “Besides, they can’t get very far without a MetroCard.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> owo? OwO? **OWO?** **_OWO?_**


	4. IV. REN

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> New faces for Leon, but all-too-familiar ones for Ren.

Ren doesn’t know how to feel about the fact that Leon’s avoiding him.

It’s pretty hard to pull that off when you’re sharing a hotel room, a bed and most of each other’s luggage, but Leon has somehow managed to do it anyway. Their interactions with him have become pretty distant, which is somewhat of a blow in its own right, but the most disheartening thing in Ren’s eyes is that they aren’t smiling at him anymore.

 _It’s not fair. Their smile is cute,_ thinks Ren rather despondently, and then he stomps on that thought with both feet and an arm. Leon is his friend. His friend who he just happens to have a crush on. Apparently it’s even more obvious than he feared, because Misaki and Asaka have placed him in a group chat titled “rens gay roommate crisis lol txt it” and haven’t stopped mocking him all week. Considering he matchmade their relationship two years prior, it’s probably out of affection, but _still._

Inevitably, Ren’s cheeks betray him by going the same shade of red as his hair, and he lets out a frustrated sigh as he slumps backwards onto the bed.

“Feelings are dumb.”

“That’s the mood of the week,” Leon responds from the doorway.

“Um. Hi.” Ren sits up, willing his face to return to a somewhat normal hue. “Where’d you go today?”

“Card shop in Chinatown to see if they had anything from the newer sets. I brought dinner,” offers his tag partner, lifting a plastic bag by way of explanation. “There was a noodle shop a few blocks from it, so I figured I might as well.”

“And you didn’t go _anywhere_ else?” Ren gapes at them. “Seriously?”

“We have almost three weeks here.” Leon’s found trays somewhere and is already setting out the takeout bowls. “We can sightsee after the tournament.”

“It’s not just sightseeing,” huffs Ren, pulling his tray closer to him. “It’s an _adventure,_ you know? We’re in a totally different country and all we’ve done together is go to Soho that one day after we met up with Misaki–”

“The Cardfight Subway starts running tomorrow.” Leon cuts him off, punctuating their sentence with the sharp snap of a pair of wooden chopsticks. “Try to get to bed early. We have to be awake by six in the morning.”

Ren glares at them when they’re not looking and sulkily returns to eating his noodles. 

 

* * *

 

The next morning dawns bright and early. Literally. Leon opens the blinds of every window as wide as possible, tossing the dawning sunlight right into Ren’s face.

“Was that necessary?” demands Ren, trying to be offended. Sadly, it’s too early in the morning for him to muster much of an emotion past ‘bleary’, so the effect is lost in translation. Oh well. Can’t say he didn’t try.

“No,” replies Leon with the slightest hint of smugness.

Ren burrows back into the covers where the threatening sunlight can’t reach him. Leon pokes him in the side, which is totally unfair because he’s ticklish, and he can’t help but emit a tiny screech.

“Ren, you have to get up.” There is a resigned-sounding sigh from the outer reaches of the bed cocoon. “If you’re not ready in an hour, I’m leaving without you.”

“You can’t do that. We’re a tag team.” Ren pokes his head out of the covers to stare balefully at Leon. Their hair is catching the sunlight at just the right angle, granting them a slightly ethereal aura, and Ren honestly cannot be blamed for what slips out of his mouth next.

“S’not fair. You’re really pretty.”

“I only heard one word of that sentence,” replies Leon, expression slipping into something fond and amused. “Would you mind repeating that?”

“I, um, I said I feel kind of shitty!” Utterly horrified by his slip, Ren shoots upright in a panic and flounders out of bed. Unfortunately, since a good sixty percent of his body mass is still entangled in bedsheets, this results in him collapsing gracelessly to the floor, where he elects to lay down and wallow in self-pity for a few minutes.

“Ren, you should have told me earlier if you were ill,” says Leon, looking genuinely concerned. “I can go pick up some medicine from the pharmacy for you if necessary. We don’t actually have to leave this early, I was just hoping to avoid the morning rush, but if you’re unwell…”

“Uh...yeah!” Ren blurts from the floor. “I’m, um. Sick. That’s totally it. Some Airborne would be nice, because I’m totally falling–Actually, I’m not going to finish that, because that’s the worst pickup line I’ve ever seen or heard in my life and I refuse to do that to you. You deserve better. I mean, not that it _was_ a pickup line, but it could have been, if you maybe wanted it to be, but somehow I don’t think that would work very well–”

Leon interrupts Ren’s babbling by leaning over and gently placing their hand to his forehead.

“I knew it. You’re feverish and somewhat incoherent. I’m going to run and pick up something for that, and maybe coffee. You should get dressed, though; unfortunately, we can’t cancel the matches we have today.”

“I think I’ll just lay here on the ground for a while,” manages Ren in a strangled tone. “Possibly forever.”

Leon flashes him a worried glance in lieu of a snarky comment before departing from their shared hotel room. Once they’re gone, Ren sinks back onto the floor and pulls the covers back over his head despairingly.

“I am not nearly awake enough for this.”

 

* * *

 

Ren’s hair takes almost an hour to style to perfection, and he takes comfort in the fact that he has about that much time before he has to face Leon again as he lifts himself off the floor. The sunlight is still threatening his current state of existence, so he drops his blanket back onto the bed and goes to close the curtains. The view is spectacular; minus the Empire State Building, it’s reminiscent of Ren and Leon’s shared flat back in Hitsue, and he feels himself growing faintly nostalgic. Unbidden, the memory of their first meeting springs to mind, and Ren wonders what on earth made the aloof Aqua Force player decide he was worth putting up with.

 

* * *

 

“Cardfight me.”

“I’m at work. Ask me again in ten minutes and I might be on my break.” Ren winks, sliding a freshly-baked tray of cookies into the display rack.

“Your advertisement said that you’d cover your roommate’s rent for the first two months if they were able to defeat you.” The person asking the question ignores the wink, gracing him with a stare that’s flatter than week-old soda. “Hence why I’m asking. Face me in a Cardfight.”

“Ooh, that sounds super fun!” Ren’s eyes sparkle as he considers the offer. “Actually, I might be on break now. Let me just ask my boss...”

“Ren, stop flirting with people and do your damn job.” Resident head baker and number-one fun ruiner Toshiki Kai sweeps past him wearing a severe expression and an apron that spells out DON’T TOUCH THE COOK in big black letters. (Miwa got it for him two weeks ago. Ren wouldn’t be surprised if Kai slept in the thing.) “If you’re going to be useless, go get lunch and get out of my sight.”

“Yeah, yeah. Love you too,” snipes Ren under his breath.

Kai flips him off and slams the kitchen door behind him.

“What did you just say to my boyfriend?” Miwa asks, raising an eyebrow as he neatly boxes up an order of cupcakes for the customer in front of him. He looks more amused than anything; it’s a universally known fact that you can’t befriend Kai without adding Ren to your sphere of interaction, and the interactions only escalate if you happen to be dating one of the two. Taishi Miwa might have to put up with Ren’s shenanigans, but Ren is firmly convinced that his future significant other is going to end up facing off against Kai on the set of MasterChef.

“I said that he’s totally cool for letting me take the rest of the day off!” Ren responds as loud as he possibly can.

“I said no such thing,” responds the kitchen door murderously.

“A guest wants to Cardfight me,” answers Ren without a hint of the joking tone he’s been sporting all morning. “It’s rude to keep potential flatmates waiting.”

“You’re kidding.” Miwa gapes at him. “Someone actually agreed to your deal?”

“Yes, and they’re standing behind us, so if you don’t mind…” Ren gestures to the person currently observing the macaron tree display. “I’m going to need a little more than fifteen minutes.”

“Take the rest of the day.” Kai props the kitchen door open with a foot and stops whisking whatever’s in the glass bowl he’s holding in order to glare at Ren properly. “Consider it PTO. But if you go past our rival shop, I’m going to use your new skirt as confetti for this cake.”

“Yessss!” Grinning widely, Ren pumps a fist in the air. “You are the best boss I’ve ever had!”

“I’m the _only_ boss you’ve ever had, idiot!” Scowling, Kai disappears back into the kitchen.

“Check on that Drachma ZR for me,” whispers Miwa conspiratorially once Kai’s gone. “His birthday is coming up.”

“Oh my god, do it. He’d probably marry you on the spot.”

Miwa stares at him with an expression that’s equal parts joy and terror. Snickering, Ren dashes into the back room for his coat and bag before joining the mystery challenger on the other side of the counter.

“Sorry about the wait! I’m warning you, though, I’m pretty strong, which is why I’m still partly homeless. Living with your boss is super awkward sometimes.”

“My name is Soryuu Leon.” Ren’s challenger tilts their chin up to meet his gaze impassively. “And I would not count on winning if I were you.”

 

* * *

 

Ren’s expression grows wistful as he closes the blinds and goes to search his luggage for a decent outfit. Despite having the clan disadvantage, Leon defeated him fair and square and then proceeded to tell him exactly how many times he had screwed up. They moved in together two weeks later. It was beautiful, really.

_Just like they are._

Ren snatches his phone off the nightstand and Googles how to delete embarrassing thoughts. Unsurprisingly, nothing helpful surfaces and he gets a redirect to a Yahoo Answers thread titled “am i gay? theres this boy i like...” instead of an actual answer. Distinctly annoyed, he flings his phone across the bed and stomps into the bathroom.

By the time Ren finishes showering and gets around to styling his hair (translation: snapping in as many hair clips as he can and hoping his mane retains them over the course of the day) he’s switched from having his second gay crisis of the morning to mentally reviewing all possible combinations of rule restrictions for the Cardfight Subway. The people behind this tournament have definitely done their research, even going so far as to include a roulette featuring every currently playable clan; if players step into any of the ever-so-creatively-named clan roulette cars, they’re forced to use a pre-constructed deck chosen at random for the duration of the match. Thankfully, the final matches are free of any such restrictions, but for the first five days of tournament play he and Leon are subject to the whims of whatever subway line they end up riding.

(Ren fears the roulette. Mostly because he hates Kagero on principle.)

The bathroom door bursts open without warning as Ren is slipping on a pair of leg warmers, and he thanks every god from Allah to Zeus that he has most of his outfit on already because there are three entire people in the doorway.

“I apologize for intruding,” blurts Leon hurriedly, tightening their grip on the plastic Duane Reade bag they’re holding. Ren spots the bright colors of a pack of Skittles through the translucent plastic and feels a warm rush of something like gratitude. “But we’ve got something of an issue.”

Misaki grimaces from behind them. She’s standing next to someone Ren hasn’t seen in person since the end of last semester.

_“Asaka?!”_

“I wish I could say it’s nice to see you again, but it sure as hell isn’t under these circumstances.” The person who proofread his graduate thesis shakes her head, blue hair flying from side to side almost as gracefully as his ponytail. “There’s a deck thief in the Cardfight Subway.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ya im dying editing takes so loNG FOR WHY i was supposed to study for bio but like *drops my priorities on the floor*


	5. IV. LEON

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The plot thickens.

“You’ve got to be kidding.”

Ren’s expression goes from mildly surprised to vaguely horrified in a matter of seconds as he walks out of the bathroom, and Leon is very abruptly reminded of the English expression ‘zero to a hundred’.

“Unfortunately, I’m not.” Asaka sighs as she trails everyone else into the main room of the suite. “They’re delaying the opening ceremonies by two hours because someone apparently stole a max-rarity Link Joker deck straight out of the Tatsunagi headquarters minutes before transport.”

“That’s not the reason for the uproar, though,” Misaki adds. “Kourin told me this morning that everyone’s more worried because the thief gave it back. Which means they probably broke in just to prove they could do it.”

“So what does that have to do with us?” Ren tilts his head, which does not help his efforts to tame his hair in the slightest. “All I have to do is make sure nobody finds out I have legion rares in my deck.”

“Or secret rares,” adds Misaki. Asaka’s grin widens mischievously as she opens her mouth.

“No,” says Ren firmly, and Leon barely bites back a snort. The tables have turned here.

Asaka pouts. “But-”

“Absolutely not. I don’t want to know.”

“They’re merely here to deliver us a warning.” Leon deposits the plastic bag precariously on the side of the nightstand, exchanging it for a silver scrunchie. “Not that you listen to those,” they add under their breath as they repossess Ren’s brush and set about fixing his ponytail for him.

“That was _one_ time!” Ren protests, crossing his arms as he submits himself to being the object of Leon’s careful ministrations. “How was I supposed to know that ‘spicy’ on a package actually means ‘straight from the depths of hell’?”

Asaka grins, shaking her head with an amused expression. “Glad to see you haven’t grown up too much, Ren.”

“I’m twenty-two and I have a license, a job and a master’s degree,” Ren shoots back petulantly. “Who says I’m not grown up?”

Startled, Leon tugs the brush a little too sharply. “You went to graduate school?”

“You went to college?” Misaki adds.

Ren gives them both a scathing look in lieu of a response.

“You know you love us,” Asaka says flippantly, waving off Ren’s glare. “Anyways, as thrilling as it was to catch up and talk about card thieves for all of five minutes, Misaki and I are going to use the match delay to go grab some actual breakfast. I’m utterly starved.”

“Caffeine _is_ breakfast,” Misaki grumbles halfheartedly.

“You moonlight at Starbucks for free coffee, my love, of course you’d think that,” replies Asaka, but the look in her eyes is fond as she links her fingers through Misaki’s and nudges the door open with one high-heeled boot. “Anyways, seeya!”

Ren calls out a cheerful goodbye as they leave, and Leon takes advantage of the momentary distraction provided by the duo’s departure to slip the scrunchie around their friend’s burgundy ponytail. They run their fingers through his hair in practiced motions, absently working out the tangles while checking to make sure the hair accessory isn’t stretched far enough to meet an untimely death.

“You should really trim your hair soon. It’s a precaution against split ends.”

“We don’t say the s-word in my presence,” responds Ren imperiously, although his commanding tone is rather undermined by the pleasant hum he emits when Leon manages to work out a particularly stubborn tangle.

“What are you, some type of housecat?” Leon snorts, amused despite themself as they continue to untangle the mass of ponytail in front of them.

In lieu of a proper response, Ren drops his entire body weight onto them. The brush clatters to the floor, along with most of Leon’s dignity.

_“What are you doing.”_

“If I’m a cat, that makes you the pillow.” Ren’s grin is all teeth.

Leon closes their eyes and hopes against hope that their face isn’t as red as it feels, because Ren’s face is so dangerously close to theirs (and they _established_ this, didn’t they, any type of physical contact with this boy is most definitely not good for blood pressure or body temperature or heart rate or–well, much of _anything,_ apparently–)

“Hey, Leon.”

“What?” manages Leon, voice sounding distantly strangled even to their own ears.

“You’re like my better half, I think.” Ren props himself up on folded arms, elbows resting gently on Leon’s stomach as he meets their gaze. The air of playfulness from a few seconds earlier is completely gone, replaced with an odd sort of calm, and the half of Leon’s brain that isn’t occupied with preventing them from doing something stupid wonders briefly if Ren has been suddenly replaced with a completely different person. “You think your actions through instead of charging right into everything, and you’re always calm even when I’m panicking. Like the thing with the plane.”

“The plane…?” Leon stares at him blankly. A few synapses fire in unison, dredging forth the memory of Ren’s pale face and shaky hands, and they remember with startling clarity the sharp spikes of worry they had felt every time their cross-continental flight so much as wobbled. “Ah. Well, that was…”

“There’s been other times.” Ren’s gaze is sharp enough to give Leon paper cuts; they settle for wincing at his tone. “Don’t put yourself down, Leon. It’s fine to be stressed or scared, but it’s a tag tournament for a reason. You’re not fighting alone.”

“I…” Leon blinks in surprise.

“Sorry!” Ren yelps, sliding away from Leon like they’ve just morphed into lava and scrunching himself up against the pillows. “You’ve just been moping all week, and I thought…”

“No, you were right,” blurts Leon before their brain can warn their mouth that now is not a particularly good time to be honest. “This tournament is going to change our lives, Ren. The Tatsunagi group sought us out when we’re barely at the starting line of Cardfighting, and there’s so much–the entire country’s going to be watching us now, and we’re not even in Japan, and then there’s that card thief and your friends–”

“ _Our_ friends,” corrects Ren.

“Your friends more than mine,” Leon replies honestly. Wherever Ren goes, they follow, and if he happens to make friends then they’re most likely going to end up partaking in some sort of camaraderie that hopefully won’t get them all arrested.

“No, they’re your friends too.” Ren stands up from the bed and holds out his hand to them. “Why do you think Miwa and Kai are always giving you free coffee and pastries from the shop? They never do that to me.”

“You pester them too much.” Leon snorts, taking Ren’s hand and pulling themself to their feet. “Also, you work there.”

“Well…” Ren tilts his head, considering. “Actually, you’re probably right about that.”

“Anyway, shouldn’t we get going?” Leon dusts imaginary lint off their slacks, flicking a glance over to the digital clock on their nightstand. “Asaka said the matches were delayed, not cancelled, and we’ve still got to get to Times Square–”

The lightness of Ren’s hand in theirs disappears rather suddenly, and Leon only has a second to pause in surprise before they’re enveloped in a warm hug. Ren is warm and comforting and smells like strawberries and espresso, and Leon decides very quickly that they’d be perfectly fine with being late to the opening ceremonies of the Cardfight Subway if the two of them could stay like this for a little while longer. That conclusion is very quickly revised when Ren’s lips brush their ear and their heart stutters to a complete stop because it is statistically impossible to fully enjoy a nice hug when you’re in the throes of cardiac arrest.

 

* * *

 

“I really mean it, you know,” whispers Ren very quietly. “I’m here for you too.”

 

* * *

 

Something hard and cold uncoils from Leon’s chest, washing away all the stress and awkwardness of the past week, and for that brief moment the world’s woes can’t make a dent in their unbreakable heart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hope youre enjoying mr. bones's wild ride! it only gets gayer from here on out!!


End file.
